


Bright Side

by starlore



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Misplaced Guilt, also some mention of nausea/vomiting, awkward teenagers, but there's no actual vomiting, i like embarrassing myself, i'm not actually sure why i'm sharing this, look everything worked out in the end, seemingly unrequited, seriously the conflict is nearly nonexistent, typical cliche fanfiction from 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlore/pseuds/starlore
Summary: Once upon a time, I found a CD-R filled with ancient works from my old GreatestJournal account. A good amount of them were unfinished, but this one appeared to be complete. I present to you, with some minor editing and slight reworking, a fanfic from the ancient time of 2006, long before AO3 or tumblr existed. 
Summary: More or less a stand-alone ficlet than an actual full-fledged fic. The aftermath of an impulsive action and rushed confession. Keigo fears he has ruined his friendship with Ichigo forever. As usual, he couldn't be more wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the summary, this fic is literally ten years old. I reworked it to make more cohesive sense and flow better, since I was the tender age of (XX) when I originally wrote it, but don't expect much as far as originality. Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm sharing it, other than because the site needs more of this ship?? And it wasn't complete garbage?? Anyway, enjoy, and marvel of a simpler time... a time before hashtags.

He used to be terriﬁed of him. The way he glanced around the room, eyes penetrating, scowl deeply set. Keigo wanted to run every time he heard his voice. But, as time passed, as they became friendlier, more acquainted, more comfortable, Keigo wanted nothing more than to run towards him every time that grumpy boy uttered a word. He wanted to be the one he was smiling at, the one he wanted near. He didn't realize it at first, but what he assumed was merely a strong, manly bond between friends was actually a budding crush, innocent and cheesy enough to put any romance manga to shame.

Naturally, when that lightswitch had flipped, Keigo wasn't sure how to approach it. He liked girls, didn't he? Well, of course he did, but Ichigo was... _Ichigo_. There was something that drew him in inexplicably, something that made his heart pound so loudly it was practically deafening. The fact that he was a guy didn't really seem to matter. Well, no, that was a lie. It _did_ matter, since he had a reputation to consider, but the pining was all-consuming. It was something he could never hope to act on, at least not any time soon. Running and leaping at him in the hallway was the only outlet he had allotted himself, and the thrill of coming just _shy_ of wrapping his arms around his neck was enough to sate his longing. 

Even still, insecurity had gnawed at his subconscious, keeping him awake in the dark of night. He would come to school, drained, tired and still nervous from the night’s worry. But, the moment he had dragged himself through that door, everything had to be properly set. His trademark cheery smile. A loud, obnoxious voice, no matter how much it hurt his own ears. He had to be overzealous through the exhaustion. It was a tried and true method throughout his attachment to Ichigo, free of ﬂaw, no cracks of insecurities to be revealed to anyone. Keigo was a perfectionist to a fault when it came to keeping up appearances.

Though, through all of that, he still knew he would turn up empty-handed. For all his preparations and careful planning, he had nothing to show for it. Just himself taking the long walk from Karakura back to Naruki, alone. Why do it all? What was the point of it, pining for attention and acceptance from someone who cringed at the sound of your voice? Why did he keep throwing himself into the proverbial lion's den, only to crawl his way back out again, barely hanging on by a thread?

They had kissed. 

It had been an accident, really. Or a massively miscalculated oversight. The truth of it was, Keigo had been frustrated, and Ichigo had been there to witness it unfold. It wasn't anything unusual, not at first. Keigo had been known for his penchant for the dramatic, for his perceived slights and misgivings on his own fate that spiraled into a nuanced tragic comedy that the likes of Shakespeare could only hope to have penned. But it didn't stay that way. The drama soon melted away and the raw, unhinged emotion lay bear to the eyes. Keigo's mouth had been faster than he'd anticipated and soon there was no turning back. He'd spurted out his darkest thoughts, his most malignant assumptions and Ichigo had stood there and listened to it all. Keigo could remember the look on his face, though he wished he hadn't: Ichigo's eyes had been wide, his brow had been knit in an unfamiliar angle of genuine worry and surprise. The worst part of it was that he was silent through it all. Keigo swore he had seen the startings of a response playing at his lips, and that was the unlikely deciding factor of his next impulsive move. His eyes lingered on Ichigo's mouth, the anticipation of his response quickly replaced by something more base and primal. The fear of being abandoned needed to be quelled through one method and one method only: catching that bit of partnership, of love, of concern through his lips.

Hands had clasped tightly upon that thin, vintage-washed shirt Ichigo had worn, tugging it with a surprising strength as their chests brushed against each other. His eyes had ﬂuttered shut, reveling in that split-second, that fleeting instant of acceptance as it ﬁlled his heart. It was warm... Not merely the kiss itself, but everything it embodied. The release of his pain, his loneliness, all poured into that one impulsive moment.

And it all had ended as one might have expected it to. Ichigo had pulled away almost viciously, like a wild animal evading capture, his toned arms shaking with a mixture of confusion, embarrassment and anger. Keigo had visibly winced, expecting a hit, punch, kick. Any physical inﬂection. What had been worse, he later decided, was that none had come. Ichigo had just walked away without a word. Not even a glance back over his shoulder, nothing. It had hit Keigo in the stomach like a lead weight. That weight remained there for weeks.

Ever since that day, Keigo had tried to gain forgiveness through sacrifice. Rather than try to get him to talk about it, to try and work through his own emotions, he had tried to get Ichigo to smile, to look his way, by acting as if nothing happened. It had never failed before; people expected Keigo to be cheery and jovial, to not have a single care in the world. Certainly if Ichigo could only see that it was no big deal, perhaps he would impart any bit of attention to him, like he used to.

But, at the end of each day, Keigo felt all the more hopeless, as Ichigo had not batted an eyelash through any of it. Not a word, not a glance, nothing. That lead weight was growing heavier and heavier, instilling a raw and unmistakable illness any time Ichigo so much as walked past him. He had truly ruined everything. There was no real hope of garnering anything but disgust from Ichigo, was there? Eventually, Keigo gave up. If acting normal wasn't working, what would?

It had been three weeks since they had kissed and all attempts in getting Ichigo to act like normal had ended in failure, as expected. Keigo’s frustration and sickening despair reached a peak and took form in a more physical matter; he was stricken with a profound nausea and paled over, like he had the flu. He'd worked himself up into such a vicious cycle of anxiety and guilt that his stomach was rebelling against him. Of course that would be his luck! Somehow, thankfully, he managed to survive the entirety of his classes and the school day ended without incident. But he wasn't out of the woods yet. He managed to catch Ichigo's stare as he stood up from the desk and a very sharp, very acute pang of guilt struck him right in the chest. That sensation melted into a toxic sludge that dripped its way down into his stomach, alongside that ever-present lead weight, and Keigo felt his insides lurch uncomfortably. As his classmates ﬁltered out, Keigo brushed past those he normally conversed with and made a beeline for the boy’s restroom. If he was going to let this situation affect him so profoundly, he would at least make sure he was alone enough to retain _some_ of his dignity. He locked himself into a stall and stood there, hand clamped over his mouth. He groaned through his ﬁngers, the feeling of disappointment, loneliness and depression coming to a head, lolling around in his stomach. He shut his eyes, the nausea seemingly winning over his own will power. Any second now...

Suddenly, there was a sharp rap, the telltale sound of knuckles hitting the composite material that the stall door was made of. Keigo jerked from the sound, distracted long enough to keep what little food he had ingested down in his stomach. Thank goodness for small miracles... But there was still another hurdle to overcome: the state of the rest of his body. His knees felt like jelly and he feared to even open his mouth to respond, lest something other than words come out instead. To make matters worse, the mystery man on the other side of the door was growing impatient with the lack of a response. There were other stalls in the bathroom! Why did this guy have to have _this_ one? Couldn't he be left to vomit in peace?

Apparently not. Another rap shook the door, followed by a gruﬀ voice that was clearly trying a little too hard not to sound concerned, ”...Keigo, are you in there or not?” 

Keigo froze. He felt as if he might faint. That wasn't just any random classmate, that was _Ichigo_.

After he gathered the thoughts that rushed through his head into a neat little pile, he groaned, ”Y-yes.” Silence followed. Keigo felt the nausea rise back up. He hiccuped. He knew it _had_ to be Ichigo standing there, or rather, who had been standing there, because he was pretty sure he'd left already, judging by the prevailing silence. But, much like most other things in his life, he was proven incorrect; a broad hand appeared and gripped at the top of the stall door, shaking it slightly. Ichigo's voice returned and he said, plainly, ”Open up.” 

Keigo blinked, ”...a-are you serious?” he said incredulously. Did he realize where they were? He couldn't just ask someone to--

”Just do it.”

Keigo complied. He had to; Ichigo had not spoken to him for weeks and this could have been his only chance. He had to try. Steeling himself, Keigo reached forward. The latch was pulled and the door was swung open, revealing none other than Ichigo standing on the other side. He expected him to be angry, but he didn’t appear to be, from what Keigo could tell. He looked worried. His normally knit brows were relaxed, though still displayed a degree of anxiety that Keigo could see quite plainly. He was frowning, but it wasn't quite a scowl; he looked sad. Keigo wasn't sure what to think.

”... What are you doing in here?” he asked almost cautiously, half-leaned against the stall, one hand in his pocket. Keigo had been embarrassed many times in his life, but he could have safely said he had never felt as mortified as he did that instant. His colorless face panned down towards the tiled ﬂoor, eyes shutting as he said quietly, ”I... I thought I was gonna’ hurl.”

Ichigo sighed, ”Why? You looked ﬁne earlier...” Why did he sound so worried? And how did he know what he looked like earlier? Had he actually been watching him?

Keigo felt anxiety ripple along his stomach again. Out of fear of vomiting, he turned towards the toilet as he answered, ”Uhm... I-- I just got... upset. It’s stupid, you know... I feel like such a little girl,” his voice wavered, ”getting all upset to the point of making myself sick...” 

Ichigo’s face, had Keigo seen it, would have made his heart stop. His brown eyes widened, coloring his entire expression as shocked. ”But... why? What're you so upset over?” he asked, his voice low and nearly cautious.

There was a significant pause as Keigo contemplated how he wanted to answer. Part of him was miffed that Ichigo apparently didn't have a clue over what was bothering him, but another was just so desperate for a conversation that he wanted to let it all slide. Swallowing nervously, Keigo gave an initial, noncommittal shrug before answering, "You haven't been talking to me. Ever since... y'know."

 _Ever since I kissed you_ , was what Keigo wanted to say, but he figured it was already implied.

Another heavy silence hung over them. It was an awkward situation, to be certain, having a conversation like this in the restroom. None of that seemed to really reflect in Ichigo's voice, however. It was all a heavy, defeated timbre that left his throat like a rock, ”I ... I’m sorry."

And it seemed to hit Keigo like a rock, too. He almost stumbled as he turned around, perhaps a bit too candidly shocked for his own good, ”For-for what...? I was the one who...”

Ichigo shook his head suddenly. Keigo watched as he seemed to fight with what he wanted to say; his eyes never really focused on one spot for long, in favor of drifting around all over the place. When he finally spoke again, Keigo felt that nausea ebb away, ”No. It's not that. I...” Color ﬂowed into Ichigo’s face; whatever it was he wanted to say obviously impeded the ﬂow of his normal train of emotions. He sighed, eyebrows knitting, ”I'm sorry that I was ignoring you, but I was angry. You were acting normal afterwards. Like... nothing happened.” 

Keigo stared, but Ichigo wasn't finished, "You... _kissed_ me like that--" the way Ichigo said "kissed" sounded so bashful, so flustered, "--and I didn't know how to react, so I stormed off. I thought to myself, 'he'll bring it up tomorrow and we can talk about it,' but you didn't."

How utterly simple of a problem. Miscommunication, was it? Keigo felt a bit better physically; a bit of color returned to his face, though his knees still felt like they were going to give out. He even had the energy to let a small laugh loose, ”But... _you_ were the one who got mad at me after I kissed you...” Keigo laughed again, fueled by his own brand of confusion and shame, ”What was I supposed to think?” 

Ichigo huﬀed in response, embarrassed, ”I was just confused...” he frowned, ”God, that sounds so cliche.” 

It really did, all things considered. Enough so that Keigo wondered what he'd been wasting the past three weeks on. All he had to do was ask Ichigo about it? That's it? How ridiculous. Keigo smiled a bit stronger, half ashamed of himself as he attempted to take a shaky step forward, ”I’m .. I’m glad that you don’t hate me and I— _gah_!!”

He had been so weak, it was only a matter of time before Keigo’s legs would slack oﬀ on their duties, nearly sending him into the ﬂoor. That is, had not Ichigo been there to stop it from happening. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Keigo, like he had done so whenever one of his little sisters had almost fallen ﬂat on their face, for one reason or another. Though, it was a bit diﬀerent then. Instead of just righting Keigo and letting go, he held him there.

It was awkward. Keigo felt his entire face turn a dark red and he was certain that Ichigo's own complexion was of a similar affair.

In fact, Keigo could practically hear it in his voice as he tentatively broke the silence, ”I’m sorry. I shoulda just... ”

Apologizing wasn’t Ichigo’s strong suit, though really, Keigo didn’t mind; it wasn't his fault. Keigo had no reason to blame him, and he didn't. He had to fix the situation. With a soft sigh, Keigo gently pressed his palms against Ichigo's chest, gingerly pushing against him so that he could properly right himself. He didn't want Ichigo to carry this around, like everything else he blamed himself for. Once he was confident enough to stand on his own, he tilted his head up at Ichigo and smiled sheepishly. He would fix this, like he should have weeks prior.

"It's not your fault. It's mine," he began, quickly forgetting that his hands remained placed against Ichigo's chest as they stood there. "I... was really frustrated and upset. I felt like I was losing grip on everything. I've been fighting with these ... feelings I have for you for a long time and I guess it all just came to a head."

As Ichigo was listening, he took interest in the way Keigo's lips quirk as he talked. It was clear enough that he was fighting for a way to explain himself. It was oddly fascinating, the way Keigo's lips twitched and curled, the way his teeth tugged on his lower lip as he mulled things over in his head. Ichigo hadn't really noticed it before, probably because it was rare that Keigo thought deeply on any of his actions in the past. 

And Ichigo couldn't say he thought much of his actions, either. When an impulse took hold of him, it was rare that he fought it off. So he didn't. In one swift movement, Ichigo leaned that short distance downward and pressed his lips back against Keigo's own, lingering there as he felt the soft, pliant skin against his mouth. Keigo froze, his fingers tightening in Ichigo's uniform shirt. It was like a bizarre replay of what had happened three weeks prior, but this time, no one was pulling back. Keigo felt all of his anxiety leave his body, leaving behind nothing but a satisfaction of which he'd never experienced before. Even if Ichigo was clumsy with his mouth, even if he was shyly nudging his face back once the kiss ended, Keigo felt it was perfect. 

It left him momentarily dazed, a heated blush persistent on his face as well as Ichigo's. There was nothing but the sound of their soft breathing as they wrestled to replenish the air to their lungs, leaving them feeling as though they were in their own world, not in the bathroom of the highschool.

This time around, Ichigo was the one to laugh softly, a breathless sound that was light and all too genuine. Keigo hadn't heard that sort of sound from Ichigo in their entire friendship. It was fascinating. 

"S-so, now... Now we're even, yeah?" Ichigo said, a slight grin curling at his lips despite the obvious shame he was struggling with for acting on such a brash impulse. Keigo couldn't think of anything more wonderful to look at than Ichigo's smile. 

He gave a shallow nod, fighting his way out of his dreamlike state. As much as he enjoyed standing there with Ichigo, he didn't want their first real connection to continue in a bathroom. "For now. We need to talk more about this, though. I owe you more of an explanation."

Ichigo nodded in return, letting his hands slip from Keigo's body. They needed privacy, but the bathroom definitely wasn't ideal. Where could they go? Luckily enough, it only took Ichigo a second before he came up with his own solution. 

"My dad is taking my sisters out to see a movie tonight, so... if you wanna talk more, we could go to my place. Y'know, if you wanna."

Keigo couldn't hide the look of surprise on his face, just like he couldn't hide the level of happiness that chased it shortly afterward. He was nothing if not an open book. "Yeah, that sounds good!" 

If this had been an elaborate dream, he certainly didn't want to wake up. But as they exited the bathroom, slipping back into a comfortable back and forth (subtle jabs, teasing remarks, Ichigo's trademark headlocks), he realized that nothing had ever felt more real in his life. He'd messed up, lashing out like that, and he'd messed up in not approaching Ichigo sooner. But one had to look on the bright side of things if one wanted to get through the tough spots. Like the sun after a storm, things would right themselves once given the time.

And Ichigo would always be Keigo's bright side.


End file.
